156 ORGAN OF THE LOVE OF LIFE. In conversing with a variety of individuals about their mental feelings, no fact has more forcibly arrested my attention than the difference which exists in the love of life. It will be assumed by many, that this is an universal desire, glowing with equal intensity in all; but the fact is otherwise. All possess the feeling, but its degrees vary much more than is generally imagined. Some individuals desire life so intensely, that they view death as the greatest calamity; they declare that, rather than part with existence, they would submit to live in endless misery: the bare idea of annihilation is unsupportable to their imaginations; and they found an argument for immortality on the position, that God cannot be guilty of the injustice of making them conscious of so great a boon as life, and subsequently depriving them of it: to have lived, according to them, gives an indefeasible title to continue to live for ever. "Could'st thou persuade me the next life could fail And wide extends the bounds of human wo!". Young's Night Thoughts, B. vii., v., 645. Other individuals, again, experience no such passion for existence; they regard pain and parting with the objects of their affections as the chief evils of death: so far as the mere pleasure of living is concerned, they are ready to surrender it with scarcely a feeling of regret; they discover nothing appalling in death, as the mere cessation of being; and do not feel the prospect of immortality to be essential to their enjoyment of the present life. I have found these different feelings combined with the most opposite dispositions in all other respects: the great lovers of life were not always the healthy, the gay, and the fortunate; nor were those who were comparatively indifferent to death always the feeble, the gloomy, and the misanthropic on the contrary, the feeling existed strongly and weakly in these opposite characters indiscriminately. Neither does the difference depend on the moral and religious qualities of the individuals; for equal morality and religion are found in combination with either sentiment. This is a point in human nature not generally adverted to; nevertheless, I have obtained so many assurances of the existence of these different feelings from individuals of sound judgment and unquestionable veracity, that it appears to me highly probable that there is a special organ for the Love of Life. We seem to be bound to existence itself by a primitive and independent faculty, just as we are led by others to provide for its continuance and transmission. Byron expresses his surprise at his own instinctive efforts to preserve himself from drowning, when, in his moments of reflection, he wished to die. The late excellent Dr. John Aikin could hardly comprehend the feeling of the Love of Life." "I have conversed," says he, "with persons who have avowed a sentiment of which I confess I can scarcely form a conceptiona strong attachment to existence abstractedly considered, without regarding it as a source of happiness."* Dr. Thomas Brown treats of this faculty under the name of Desire of our own continued Existence. This desire, he beautifully remarks, "is, as a general feeling of our nature, a most striking proof of the kindness of that Being, who, in giving to man duties which he has to continue for many years to discharge in a world Letters to his Son, vol. ii., Letter on the Value of Life, in which the origin of the teeling is discussed at some length. which is preparatory to the nobler world that is afterward to receive him, has not left him to feel the place in which he is to perform the duties allotted to him as a place of barren and dreary exile. He has given us passions which throw a sort of enchantment on everything which can reflect them to our heart, which add to the delight that is felt by us in the exercise of our duties; a delight that arises from the scene itself on which they are exercised-from the society of those who inhabit it with usfrom the offices which we have performed, and continue to perform."* The organ is probably situated in the base of the brain. The only fact tending to illustrate its position is one observed by Dr. A. Combe, and recorded in The Phrenological Journal, vol. iii., p. 471. In describing the dissection of the brain of a lady upward of sixty, who for many years had been remarkable for continual anxiety about her own death, he observes, that "the enormous developement of one convolution at the base of the middle lobe of the brain, the function of which is unknown, was too striking not to arrest our attention; it was that lying toward the mesial line, on the basilar and inner side of the middle lobe, and consequently of Destructiveness. The corresponding part of the skull showed a very deep and distinctly-moulded cavity or bed running longitudinally, with high and prominent sides, and presenting altogether an appearance much more striking than in any skull I ever saw. From the situation of this convolution, its developement cannot be ascertained during life, and hence its function remains unknown. Whether it may have any connexion with the Love of Life, is a circumstance which may be determined by future observations; all that we can say at present is, that the Love of Life seems to be a feeling sui generis, and not proportioned to any faculty or combination of faculties yet known-that in the subject of this notice it was one of the most permanently active which she possessed-and that in her the convolution alluded to was of very unusual magnitude; but how far the coincidence was fortuitous, we leave to time and observation to determine." Dr. Spurzheim was disposed to admit the existence of this faculty, which he calls Vitativeness. "It is highly probable," says he, "that there is a peculiar instinct to live, or Love of Life; and I look for its organ at the basis of the brain, between the posterior and middle lobes, inwardly of Combativeness." 7. SECRETIVENESS. THE organ is situated at the inferior edge of the parietal bones, immediately above Destructiveness, or in the middle of the lateral portion of the brain. When the organ of Destructiveness is much developed, it may be mistaken by the inexperienced observer for the organ of Secretiveness; so that it is necessary to remark, that the latter organ is placed higher, and rather farther forward, than the former; and that, instead of presenting the form of a segment of a circle, it is extended longitudinally. When both organs are highly developed, the lower and middle portion of the side of the head is characterized by a general fulness. The reader may contrast the skulls represented * Lecture 65, vol. iii., p. 390. on pages 143 and 144. The foregoing figure is a sketch of the shaven head of a secretive gentleman with whom I am acquainted, and of whose character an account will be found in The Phrenological Journal, viii., 206. Dr. Gall gives the following history of the discovery of this organ: In early youth he was struck with the character and form of the head of one of his companions, who, with amiable dispositions and good abilities, was distinguished by cunning and finesse. His head was very broad at the temples, and in his natural attitude it projected forward. Although a faithful friend, he experienced an extraordinary pleasure in employing every possible device to make game of his school fellows and to deceive them. His natural language was absolutely the expression of cunning, such as Dr. Gall had often observed in cats and dogs when, playing together, they wished to give each other the slip. At a subsequent period he had another companion, who, at first, appeared candour personified; no one had ever distrusted him but his gait and manner were those of a cat watching a mouse; he proved false and perfidious, and deceived, in an unbecoming manner, his young school-fellows, his tutors, and his parents. He carried his head in the same attitude as that before-mentioned; his face was handsome, and his head exceedingly broad at the temples. One of Dr. Gall's patients, who died of phthisic, generally passed for a very honest man: after his death Dr. Gall was struck with the breadth of his head in the temporal region; and shortly afterward learned that he had cheated his acquaintances, and even his mother, of considerable sums of money. At Vienna he was often in the company of a physician possessed of much information, but who, on account of his character of a cheat, was generally despised. Under pretence of dealing in objects of art, and lending on pledges, he robbed all who put confidence in him. He carried his tricks and cheats to such a length, that the government warned the public, through the medium of the public journals, to beware of him, for he had practised his arts with such dexterity that he could never be legally condemned. He often told Dr. Gall that he knew no pleasure equal to that of deceiving, especially persons who distrusted him most. As the head of this individual also was very broad at the temples, Dr. Gall was impressed with the idea that there might be a primitive tendency toward cunning in the mind, and that it might be connected with this particular cerebral organ. An immense number of observations have con firmed his conjecture. The nature and object of this propensity appear to be the following: The various faculties of the human mind are liable to involuntary activity from internal causes as well as from external excitement. Thus, Amativeness, becoming active, gives feelings corresponding to its nature; Acquisitiveness inspires with strong desires for property; and Love of Approbation fills the mind with projects of ambition. Every one must be conscious that these or similar feelings at times rush into his mind involuntarily, and frequently refuse to depart at the command of the will. Thoughts of all kinds, moreover, arise in the intellectual organs, and facts which ought not to be divulged occur to the recollection. If outward expression were given to these impulses and ideas, in all their vivacity, as they arise, social intercourse would be disfigured by a rude assemblage of disgusting improprieties, and man would shun the society of his fellows as more loathsome than pestilence or famine. Shakspeare, with that accuracy of observation which distinguishes him, has portrayed this fea ture of the human mind. Iago says: "Utter my thoughts! Why, say they're vile and false~ Keep leets and law-days, and in sessions sit With meditations lawful?"-Othello, Act iii., Scene 5. Some instinctive tendency, therefore, to restrain within the mind itself -to conceal, as it were, from the public eye-the various emotions and ideas which involuntarily present themselves, was necessary to prevent their outward expression; and Nature has provided this power in the faculty of Secretiveness. It is an instinctive tendency to conceal, and the legitimate object of it is, to restrain the outward expression of our thoughts and emotions, till the understanding shall have pronounced judgment on its propriety. "A fool," says Solomon, "uttereth all his mind; but a wise man keepeth it in till afterward."* Besides, man and animals are occasionally liable to the assaults of enemies, which may be avoided by concealment, in cases where strength is wanting to repel them by force. Nature, therefore, by means of this propensity, enables them to add prudence, slyness, or cunning, according to the direction given to it by other faculties of the individual, to their means of defence. A sufficient endowment of this organ is essential to the formation of a prudent character. It then imposes a salutary restraint on the manifestations of the other faculties, and serves as a defence against prying curiosity. "When Napoleon," says Sir Walter Scott, " thought himself closely observed, he had the power of discharging from his countenance all expression, save that of a vague and indefinite smile, and presenting to the curious investigator the fixed eyes and rigid features of a marble bust." I have observed this power to be conferred by large Secretiveness. Those in whom it is deficient are too open for the general intercourse of society; they are characterized by deficiency of tact-a headlong bluntness of manner, and the instantaneous expression of every thought and emotion as it flows into the mind, without regard to the proprieties required by time, place, or circumstances. Mr. Scott, in an excellent essay on this propensity, published in the Transactions of the Phrenological Society, observes, that it communicates the desire to discover the secrets of others as well as to conceal our own. The author of Waverley, in his novel of Quentin Durward,‡ draws the character of Louis XI. with exact fidelity to this principle of our nature. The king, says he, was "calm, crafty, and profoundly attentive to his own interest. He was careful in disguising his real sentiments and purposes from all who approached him, and frequently used the expressions-that he king knew not how to reign who knew not how to dissemble; and that, for himself, if he thought his very cap knew his secrets, he would throw it into the fire. Like all astutious persons, he was as desirous of looking into the hearts of others as of concealing his own." The representation here given is historically correct. According to this view, even a large developement of the organ, if combined with high morality and an enlightened understanding, is a valuable endowment. Persons so constituted, possessing themselves the natural talent requisite for intrigue, are well fitted to divine and discover intrigues and secret machinations in others, and to defeat them. From the same cause they read, with great acuteness, the natural language of concealment in other people, and are able to discover, by the very air and manner of a man, that he is hiding some object or intention, when a person in whom the organ is small could not perceive such a purpose. In many of the affairs of life also, secrecy is indispensable both to prudent conduct and to success. As a duty of friendship it has ever been considered of prime importance. "Though thou drewest a sword at thy friend," says the son of Sirach, "yet despair not, * Prov. xxix., 11. t Life of Napoleon, iv., 37 Vol. i., p. 7, &o See Phren. Journ., i., 177. 66 for there may be a returning to favour; if thou hast opened thy mouth against thy friend, fear not, for there may be a reconciliation; excepting for upbraiding, or pride, or disclosing of secrets, or a treacherous wound -for, for these things, every friend will depart."* Secretiveness is an essential element of politeness, much of which consists in avoiding the expression of what is likely to be disagreeable. Montaigne has well distinguished the use from the abuse of this faculty: "A man," says he, "must not always tell all, for that were folly. But what a man says should be what he thinks, otherwise 'tis knavery."+ Fielding's Parson Adams is a character in which Secretiveness is greatly defective. He had no power of concealment himself, and never suspected hidden purposes in others, or "saw farther into people than they desired to let him." Othello, in like manner, is thus described by Iago: "The Moor is of a free and open nature, That thinks men honest that but seem to be so; As asses are." Othello, Act i., sc. 11. When too energetic, or not properly directed, Secretiveness is liable to great abuses. It then leads to a liking for concealment, intrigue, and crooked policy, for their own sakes; and to a feeling that it is wise and proper to wrap up the purposes of the mind in the profoundest mystery: cunning is mistaken for ability, and deceit for practical wisdom. It may prompt to the use of lies, hypocrisy, intrigue, or dissimulation, as means to gain an end. Persons in whom it predominates, judging of mankind in general by themselves, are never able to see the affairs of the world or the conduct of others in a plain and simple point of view, but imagine life to be a continual stratagem, in which every one is endeavouring to overreach his neighbour. Such persons conceive that the eye of the world is always looking into their breasts, to read the purposes that are there hatched, but the discovery of which they are resolved to prevent. In an argument a secretive man will evade all admissions. The propensity in some instances finds gratification in the most trifling mysteries an individual under its predominating influence will conceal his going out, his coming in, his engagements, and all his transactions; even although communication of these would greatly facilitate domestic arrangements. Dr. Johnson mentions of Pope, that he took so "great delight in artifice, that he endeavoured to attain all his purposes by indirect and unsuspected methods; he hardly drank tea without a stratagem. He practised his arts on such small occasions, that Lady Bolingbroke used to say in a French phrase, that he played the politician about cabbages and turnips." Dr. King relates, in his Anecdotes of his own Times, (p. 237,) a remakable instance of secretive conduct in a gentleman named Howe, with whom he was acquainted. One morning Mr. Howe rose very early, and told his wife that he was obliged to go to the Tower to transact some particular business; and the same day, at noon, she received from him a note, stating that he was under the necessity of going to Holland, and should probably be absent three weeks or a month. He continued absent from her seventeen years, during which time she heard neither of nor from him. Instead, however, of going to Holland, he went no farther than to a street in the vicinity of his house, where he took a room, and remained in disguise during the whole time of his absence. In the second or third year after his disappearance his wife was obliged to apply for an act of Parliament, to procure a proper settlement of his estate, and a provision out of it for herself; this act he suffered to be solicited and passed, and enjoyed the Ecclus. xxii., 21. † Essays, B. ii., ch. 17. Cottons's Transl |